


Papertrail from Dema

by Turbodrawn



Category: Trench - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst?, Clancy cameo, DEMA (Twenty One Pilots), Gen, Helplessness, Trench (twenty one pilots), escaping the City, overcoming ones mental health issues, twenty one pilots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turbodrawn/pseuds/Turbodrawn
Summary: The city.It's not my home. It never has been. While I'm here I am not living- I am surviving. I want to live, not survive.I want to get out.--------------------------------------------------------------A collection of notes from just another, not special, resident of Dema





	1. Time

**Author's Note:**

> *Note: This isn't from Clancy's perspective due to the previous existence of his notes and I am not the one with the knowledge of his path. This is from the perspective of another person.
> 
> I've been interested in writing from the perspective of a resident of Dema, especially one who is just an insignificant individual in the scheme of things for quite some time and decided to give it a go. 
> 
> These chapters will be relatively short as to mimic letters/entries
> 
> Please excuse any inaccuracies in the lore if there are any as Clancy's blog is updated or as the Pilots reveal more to the story.

I’ve never had a concept of time.

 

There was a dark gloom that seemed to permeate inside its walls that somehow ate almost all forms of light. The cold, artificial glow of the neon lights provided in the buildings of Dema was one of the few that was not swallowed. 

 

But that light was no help in the darkness.

 

With that darkness came the impossibility of gauging the time around oneself. One could not rely on the natural clock the sun provides, leaving me and many others feeling as if they were stuck within an endless vacuum.

 

The rooms that we were to sleep in were no help to this condition. They were so barren of expression and void of any emotion that the grey walls reflected the artificial lights with a harsh intensity. It was the harshness of emptiness. It was what the Bishops ordered. No deviation from the norm. No influence besides them as to ensure the worship of vialism. We leave our rooms, do our jobs, and return. 

 

The streets of the city offered nothing different. It was a concrete jungle that towered high as to remind us of the boundaries. Ones that they claim “kept us safe”.

 

 ---

 

The cold permeated here. Not the coldness of the crisp, frozen air on a winter morning but the coldness of a bone chill that seeps into one’s soul.

 

**-Chance**


	2. No Way to Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short entry

The jobs we were each tasked with brought us nothing.

They were remedial actions that provided short term satisfaction upon completion, nothing more.

They were meant to keep us busy.

\---

I have heard rumors of nicer bishops- ones that are kinder or relaxed to their charges but I am not sure I believe it. I was placed in the district under Nills’ supervision and from those who told me the same rumors of the kinder bishops, I have heard that Nills is to be believed as the most ruthless of them all.

I suppose that is to be my luck. To be stuck under the most cold-hearted of them all, the one that seems to suck the hope out of us all, making it too hard to even cry a final plea for help.

Although- it seems- all the bishops manage to perform this. Just in their own twisted ways.

\---

I have been told I should not complain for we were safe within this village, under the watchful eyes of our assigned bishops. 

All our necessities to sustain us are provided for us, but it did not feel like living, it felt like surviving.

I had come to realize that this place was not a home.

We were not people in this village, nor were we seen as ones in the eyes of the nine. We were charges, workers, mere creatures that were to have our spirits broken in order to become automatons that woke, worked, and rested.  
This is no way to live.

-Chance


End file.
